Kensi's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
by coreymason
Summary: The entire team struggles to deal with the loss of Dom. As his partner, Kensi has been taking it extra hard. Combine that with an awful day and things seem to go downhill.
1. Chapter 1

Kensi Blye strutted into the office with a confidence that belied her anxiety. She was not at her best. None of the team was. They had just lost Dom and now someone was out there screwing with their heads holding information over Callen. If NCIS couldn't find out who he was, the fact that a dangerous stranger had this information did not sit well with any of the team. While the young agent normally thrived on stress and adrenaline, in fact made a living out of it, Kensi found this all to be too overwhelming. But watching the now youngest member of the team walk into work no one would know, or she hoped no one would know. The team's curious stares at her as she walked in proved her hopes to be inconsequential.

"Miss Blye, how nice of you to join us this morning, and only an hour late," Hetty commented glancing at her watch for effect. She was not late though. Impossible. Maybe the older woman was. She had checked her watch this morning when leaving. She should have been early this morning. Taking another glance she realized that at some point the watch had stopped during the night. That would teach her to follow overeager men home from a bar.

"Hetty, leave her alone, she obviously needed the extra time to primp" Sam said while smirking that annoying Sam smug grin her way. Ok, that was unfair, she normally loved bantering with Sam but today was not necessarily normal. The chuckles that came from Eric, Callen, and Nate led her to realize that something wasn't quite right.

She glanced down at her blue jeans. Normal. No rips or stains. Same with the white tank and unbuttoned blue shirt. Why were they laughing? Kenz loved teasing with her teammates but she was not herself this morning. Glancing up at the resident psychologist she saw a hint of worry in Nate's eyes under the amusement. Taking pity on her, he walked over and smoothly grabbed her overshirt off. She had it on inside out. The tags were still on.

"Damnit" she whispered before stopping herself. She couldn't help it. After leaving what's his name in bed… well his name was unimportant. She had debated whether stopping at home but once she figured out where she was, she realized that she'd never make it to work on time. While Hetty gave all her agents a good deal of leeway, punctuality was next to godliness in the older woman's eyes and a breach of this virtue was not taken lightly. So Kensi scanned the room for her clothes and made the walk of shame past this man's roommates. Judging by their whistles and Ed Hardy t-shirts it looked like she had stuck to her MO, assholes. After the little black dress incident she had kept a pair of clothes in her car, which she changed into in front of the Dunkin Dounuts giving the barely 19 year old cashier quite a show as he watched from the window. But obviously the alcohol, large amounts of alcohol she consumed during the night, still was affecting her considering her team was both grinning at her and looking at her with a bit of worry.

"Punctuality is a virtue Miss Blye, one you may want brush up on. We have a meeting with the director in 10 minutes, I hope you can make it upstairs on time" Hetty said poignantly before walking upstairs, reinforcing the agent's earlier thoughts.

"Ooh, it's ok, we always knew she liked me the best," Callen said winking at her.

"Sure, G. You keep telling yourself that," Sam shot back taking the attention and the heat off her. It was a flimsy distraction, an artificial distraction but one she appreciated nonetheless. It was almost childish how they all pretended and covered for each other. Normally she would probably be pissed, but today she needed the distraction. Today Kensi Meredith Blye wanted to revel in being screwed up.

And In their own ways they were all screwed up. Nate hadn't had a date in ages. Eric suffered from a Peter Pan complex and continued to shudder at the words "adult" or "grow-up." Callen disappeared when things got to emotional or cracked a joke and a smile that never quite reached those piercing blue eyes. Hetty had adopted five misfits to act as surrogate children for the ones she never allowed herself to have. Even Sam, the most well adjusted of the group had been spending far too much time with his punching bag and not enough time with his actual friends.

Yes. They were an interesting team. She would have continued on that track but the whistle from Eric reminded her that her time was up. She did not want to continue the day on Hetty's bad side. It was not a place any one of them relished. Walking up the stairs she felt a yank from behind as Callen held up the tags to her brand new shirt and stuffed them into his pocket. He smiled sympathetically at her before whispering, "Your shirt's still on inside out" and continuing on.

Placing her head on the wall she realized that this was going to be an awful day. She did not know just how awful her day could get.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking into the room the young agent realized one thing. This day was going to get worse. Walking in late Hetty shot the younger woman a look that hinted, no 100% decided, there would be a discussion about this. While the younger woman had a deep respect, even love, for the older woman, Kenz still harbored a fear for the woman small in stature but large in presence. Hetty would want an explanation, and she would have none to give. Then Hetty would give her a look that would suggest both worry and disapproval. Then she'd find herself having some one-on-one time with her favorite psychologist. Like Hetty, Kensi respected Nate and viewed him as a great friend; however, she preferred him as a friend to her psychologist.

Suddenly realizing that Eric's voice was rising, probably because he noticed she had zoned out, she decided to tune back in before she really found herself permanently in the doghouse.

"Sgt. Christopher Mason, age 31. A career military man has gone missing."

"Marines going AWOL isn't entirely something out of the ordinary," chimed in Nate.

"Yeah, and it's not exactly a matter of national security" agreed Sam.

"It is when that marine was supposed to ship out to Afghanistan to deliver military orders for a new campaign over there. We're talking about very detailed plans. Dates, times, locations, passwords. The who, what, where, when, and why.

"If this falls into the wrong hands our troops wouldn't stand a chance. They'd be at the mercy of whoever bought the plans" Kensi added finally contributing to the conversation. "Where was he last seen?"

"He was last seen at Bardot," Hetty replied.

"That swanky new dance club on N. Vine?"

"Exactly. That means Miss Blye, Mr. Hanna, and Mr. Callen will be going undercover at the nightclub to see what they can find out."

"What's our story?" asked Sam.

"You, Mr. Hanna, will put those djing skills to use. Bardot is hosting new dj talent and I scored you a gig."

Sam could only look at Hetty confusedly before spitting out, "Hetty, I don't know how to dj."

"Indeed. That is why Mr. Beal will be giving you lessons this afternoon."

Now everyone looked confused and turned to Eric who looked both embarrassed and proud. No one expected their resident geek was a dj.

He merely shrugged and said, "Hey, I gotta have something to win the ladies over."

"What about me and Kenz? I'm almost afraid to ask."

You Mr. Callen will be playing the part of Miss Blye's paramour."

"Paramour?" came out simultaneously from both mentioned parties.

"Yes, Bardot has a rather seedy reputation. You will be playing the part of the very newly rich and very much married Mr. Samson, who thankfully is not due to arrive into town for another week. Ms. Blye will be playing your girlfriend. This is important. I expect you all to do your best. We need to find out what happened to Sgt. Mason and those plans, otherwise we leave many American soldiers in danger. Now go on," Hetty said dismissing them with the knowledge and responsibility of their mission fresh in their minds.

Kensi turned and watched her team file out. Eric was enthusiastically throwing out terms to a still stunned Sam, excited that he had the opportunity to show off to the agent he admired. Hetty strode out with a determined walk, probably to pick out their wardrobes for the evening, a task that was a favorite for the wardrobe maven. Callen and Nate both started talking before realizing that one agent was still in the room. They both looked back at the younger woman with something that resembled more concern that Kensi appreciated.

"Kensi, you good?" asked Nate.

Both men waited for her response. She was too busy thinking about the concern and whether they thought she was somehow off since Dom's death that she did not realize they were still staring and still waiting for an answer. The duo's concerned looks deepened.

She gave them a smile that did not quite reach her mismatched eyes before responding.

"Yeah. I was just imagining Eric and Sam's study sessions and how long it'll be before Sam kills him."

Neither of the men bought it but they let her have the moment.

"I don't know. Twenty bucks says he doesn't last a half hour," Callen said tactfully ignoring the room's pink elephant. Considering each of them had these pink elephants, who was he to push?

"Nah, Sam has a very slow fuse. He's calm and in control. He'll last 45 minutes easy," Nate replied.

As she sat in the dressing room Kensi Blye considered how she did not suffer from the same Peter Pan complex that the resident techie/surfer seemed to suffer from. She grew up as a very realistic and no-nonsense little girl, having her mother check out early and being raised by a marine guaranteed that. While the other girls on the base were having tea parties, wearing their mothers' high heels, and pretending to be good little wives and mothers, she preferred to stay grounded. By grounded she played in the mud and wrestled the boys to the ground. She played in the dirt, was the first girl on the boys softball team, but she never knew the joys of Barbie. Not having a mother to show her how to be a woman, Kenz lacked a lot of the couth and discretion associated with the fair sex. She was abrupt, often insensitive, boisterous, and opinionated, the same characteristics that made men, or rather quality men, keep their distance, also were the same characteristics that her team and her father found endearing. Her father appreciated the more ballsy characteristics of his daughter as they kept the boys from crossing the line from friends to someone whose ass he'd have to kick. Her dysfunctional teammates appreciated it because they could relate, they knew they had someone who would always have their back, and with Kensi you knew what you were dealing with. She had never been a child who indulged in pretend.

As an adult, the young agent made her living pretending. As a child she hated to pretend to be something she was not. As an adult she no longer minded. Being someone else allowed her to forget her own problems. However, she usually preferred to pretend to be someone in more comfortable clothing.

"Kens, what's taking so long?" Nate shouted from outside the wardrobe room.

She heard some scuffling and the resident psychologist make an uncharacteristically feminine sounding "ouch" followed by Callen's voice.

"No cheating. If you make her come out now you win. What happened to a vow of ethics, Doc?"

"What exactly does Nate win, G?" she asked as she walked out in a barely there green mini dress.

"WOW!" was his only response followed by a wolf whistle from Eric, who then promptly received a slap to the back of the head from Sam. Despite feeling completely uncomfortable in her latest costume, she did smile at Sam's violently overprotective streak. Normally she would protest, but with Sam he wasn't protecting her because she was "the girl." Once after teasing Callen about a couple of extra pounds he had gained she had found herself on the wrong end of a death glare. He was equally protective of all of them. Nate once jokingly called him a mother hen, but a mother bear was more accurate.

In attempt to take the pressure off of himself, Eric took the noble route and narked out both G and Nate.

"Actually, they were betting on how long it would take to get ready," he smiled apologetically up at her. She returned the smile letting him know it was ok. That was another amazing part about being a member of OSP, words were often unnecessary. This was further proven by the second slap he received in as many minutes, this time by Callen.

"You were betting on how long it would take me to get ready?" she said while transforming her smile into something much more predatory in nature.

"Yeah, well, he said it would take you 45 minutes, I thought it would take you much less time," the psychologist answered throwing the normally GQ G Callen back under the bus.

She would have responded but Hetty walked in and the respect of silence was immediate. "Alright agents, good luck. Find Sgt. Mason."

As they headed out and Nate and Eric linked into the comm systems Kensi could only think about how much she did not care about Sgt. Mason. She cared about Dom and what had happened. She cared about how mortal and vulnerable her team was. Joining NCIS she had found a new family, but she had never thought of these strong individuals as mortal. Since Dom, she realized that they were no different than her father, her partner, or her ex-boyfriend. Her entire world seemed to be spinning and she was supposed to be protecting the troops. Her only consolation was that at least she got to play a part for the next few hours, be someone else other than the intensely emotional Kensi Meredith Blye. As the night deepened Kensi could not shake the feeling that her day was only going to get worse.


	3. Chapter 3

Strutting into Bardot with her arm wrapped around Callen's she easily slipped into the role of flirtatious gold-digger. Hetty's adroit skills as wardrobe maven had been outdone this evening, something all the males of the team would readily agree on. Swaying her hips to match Callen's swagger, she had the entire line starring in envy at the young woman in a barely there green dress, showing off just enough cleavage to show she was most certainly not wearing a bra. Combined with the thigh high black stiletto boots that she called hooker boots and Sam affectionately referred to as her "fuck me" boots for obvious and somewhat accurate reasons, she was completely salacious.

Mr. Samson, a noveau riche, a real big shot who was moving to L.A. from Miami, was thought to have made his many many millions from various cons and money laundering schemes. Bernie Madoff had something on Evan Samson. Though Evan Samson was married to Charissa Gray of the Houston oil Grays, something that only improved his financial status, he did not take those vows seriously. While he was wealthy enough to keep himself out of the papers, a price few could actually afford, his reputation still preceded him. Thankfully, his picture did not. G was playing the part of lecher perfectly. Maybe because it was so completely different than his actual character.

So Evan Samson and Olivia Landon strolled into Bardot with his hand on her lower back inching dangerously close to ass. She smiled and batted her eyelashes and snubbed her nose at the jealous looks women were throwing her way.

Walking into the club they made eye contact with Sam. Even Eric's skills couldn't help the former Seal and instead, Eric had to set him up with a Mac and a list of popular songs. While he wouldn't be winning any awards for his skills the club with packed to capacity and no one seemed to be complaining.

After a brief flirt session for show Callen and Kensi split up to gather some intel on Sgt. Mason. Nate, Eric, and Hetty were watching from the mission checking in occasionally. Heading to the packed bar to wait for someone to buy her a drink, something she rarely allowed in her personal life but something that Olivia Landon would not object to and actually expect. Soon enough, a handsome socialite, probably an exboyfriend of some famous woman famous for being famous, offered to buy her a drink. As she waited for him to return she let her mind wander.

It was ironic, possibly poetic, that their operations were based in a mission. For all the members of OSP team, that building was more than a home than the places where they kept their belongings. Hell, Callen even slept there most nights. The mission was a sanctuary. There they didn't have to hide; they did not have to pretend to be anyone other than who they were. They didn't have to put on disguises, assume aliases. They did not have to run from a past of absent parents, war, death, loneliness, and hiding. They got to live in the now. When Kensi Blye went to work she came alive, they all did. The fact that the mission was the place where her family lived sealed its sanctuary status. It was not uncommon to find a member of the team there at odd hours of the day.

The days after Dom's kidnapping was a prime example. Kensi had been at some sleazy biker bar looking for a guy to take her home and help her forget how much she hurt and they never ever were allowed at her place. Letting people into her safe place and her life was not something she did easily, but that is off topic. After finding that none of these men were even worth the effort to pick up she started speeding down the highways of Los Angeles. What she was trying to achieve she still hadn't figure out, but she knew if she spoke to Nate he would probably have answer. But talking to Nate would equate with admitting vulnerability and as the daughter of a Marine she knew better. She drove around until she found herself at the mission. Walking in she saw a light up in their briefing room and sitting at the table were Sam and Eric watching _Dodgeball. _

"Insomnia, and Sam had heartburn," preempted Eric before she could even ask and making the international sign for quotes while saying heartburn.

"Heartburn?" she asked in disbelief.

"I know it was lame."

"Sam, you're supposed to be a GQ undercover agent. Smooth and stealthy. Heartburn is not really smooth. It's not exactly James Bond."

"Eric man, you got it wrong. G is James Bond, I'm Shaft. Shaft had a bit more flavor and a lot more color."

Picking up on Sam's desire to change the subject away from the fact that they were lying as to why there were here Kensi decided to chime in help out.

"So what does that make me?"

"You Kensi, are Wonderwoman" came the disembodied voice of Nate's voice incredibly close behind her. What did that say about said undercover skills that she could not here the approaching of Nate, the team's clumsiest and most innocuous member?

"Doc, you got to stop reading those cartoons and picturing Kenz in her underwear," Sam threw in chuckling at the typically Nate answer.

"Plus, I'm not Wonderwoman. She wasn't stealthy. She wasn't cool."

"Hey, they're comics and she had an invisible plane and that invisible lasso, that's stealthy."

"Kensi's just upset that you think she looks like a chunky superhero who wears underwear for a costume," the surfer joked winking at his friend. Surprisingly he was dead on.

"Nah, she is definitely Lara Croft. Especially when she braids her hair," said Callen joining the conversation. "What are you guys all doing here?"

Seeing no one answering Eric decided to, "I couldn't sleep because my neighbors were making a lot of noise, Sam apparently is suffering from an epic bout of heartburn and I can't speak for those two," pointing towards his two friends. Callen gave his bestfriend a look that stated he too thought heartburn was an incredibly lame excuse.

"I had to escape a bad date, didn't want him to follow me home and know where I lived," she responded not quite lying.

The resident psychologist was hesitating on how he should respond. He was in charge of every single member of OSP from Hetty down to the mailroom guy. Even Eric received sessions, which the rest of the team would probably be surprised to find out as they often commented on how jealous they were of the tech specialist. Eric, like himself, had to watch from the sidelines. He could help, but he couldn't physically protect them; combine that with the fact that he saw the same gruesome images that the agents did, he needed the one-on-one sessions too. Treating the strangers was easy. They were patients. But these four and Hetty were friends, which made understanding their motives and reading their cues easier but made it more difficult to act as their psychologist. It was times like these that Nate the psychologist wanted to call them out on their lies and help them work on their issues. He realized he wanted to be Nate their friend this evening and honestly, sometimes he wanted to ignore things as well.

"Well, I forgot to do some paperwork that Hetty wanted at 9am sharp. As I hope to be a father one day, I figured if I want to keep the parts that will enable me to become a father I should probably come back and finish it.

Callen clapped him on the back and laughed, "Good call, Doc."

"G, why are you here?"

"I got kicked out of my apartment so I'm back to staying here."

"You know, all we need is Hetty and some popcorn and this shindig would be complete."

"Always happy to oblige you, Eric," Hetty smiled at her adoptive brood as she walked in with two bowls of popcorn. "And Mr. Getz, I do still expect that paperwork on my desk by 9am."

"That's just creepy" Kensi whispered to Sam, which earned her one of the infamous glares of hurricane Hetty.

Kensi Blye would have stayed in that memory and how they all spent the rest of the evening together watching a movie before taking a group trip to the Pancake Pantry for breakfast, but she was interrupted by someone's hand squeezing her thigh.

Shit. She was undercover.

"You ok?"

For a minute she thought it was Callen, but when she looked up and saw the pretty boy with a drink in his hand she gave him that dazzling Blye smile, though internally she was wondering why his hand was on her thigh. Looking at the drink she saw something dissolving in the drink. Probably roofies. She made a mental note to make sure this man paid for it later. This was her job, so she played pretend.

"Yes, thank you," she said letting it be known that she was lying and staring at her drink.

The man got the hint and realized that he was going to have work for a piece of this woman. Staring into the mesmerizing black and brown eyes, he decided this was a notch he had to add.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked pretending to care what actually happened to this woman.

"A friend of mine, a marine, Chris, is missing," she said pretending to be choked up.

"Mason?" he asked somewhat nervously.

"Yeah, he's a really good friend."

"How is he missing, he was just here last night?"

"What?" she said grabbing his hand playing the part of damsel in distress perfectly. If he thought sympathy and being a hero was the way to her heart (or pants) then all the better.

"Yeah, he was here last night with Hollywood's latest it girl, Sydney Adelaide, that bitch over there," he said pointing to a woman in an obscenely short skirt letting the whole world know that she was wearing black lacy panties.

Callen, hooked up to the comm link, took the notice and began to strike up a conversation with the woman, flirting, casually rubbing her arm and making sure she got a glance at the rolex he was sporting. She seemed to be buying it.

Turning back to her airhead of an heir, she continued to talk to him to see if she could get any more information.

"Did Chris come here a lot?"

"All the time, why do you care anyway, didn't you come in what that Samson douche?"

"I did, but, it's not anything serious. Chris, he was" she broke up and pretended to cry, which considering all the pent up emotion came almost as a relief. Handsome, she realized she hadn't even gotten his name, much like the man who she shared a bed with almost 24 hours ago, loved it. He put his arms around her and told her how neither of them were worth it and how he'd never abandon a girl like her. The hysterics in her voice must have been too real, because she heard the voices of Nate in her ears.

"Kensi."

That one word both brought her back to her job and held a world of worry and empathy. Coming back to reality and hearing this man had moved onto talking about his father being a producer and Stephen Spielberg being his godfather, she sniffled and smiled at Don Juan, she really needed to get this guy's name.

"Thank you, I'm not used to men treating me with respect."

Hoping to seal the deal, he placed the drink in her hands and pointed over to where G. was whispering in the neck of Sydney Adelaide and rubbing her arms, obviously comforting a woman. She watched as they walked outside, presumably so he could get more information with the woman that Sgt. Mason spent his last hours with. Deciding that this man had no more information to share and he was already eying a blonde across the bar chatting up Sam, she decided to get away from this LOSER before she h ad to break cover and clock his entitled ass.

"I think I'm going to fresh up, I'll be right back"

She took the drink with her, so he couldn't pawn this on some unsuspecting woman and walked out with enough shimmy to make sure he knew what he was missing. Heading towards the bathroom she couldn't think about how she hoped Callen got what he needed because she really wanted out of there. She was about to open the door when she felt a gun pressed up against her back.

"Don't talk. Don't scream. Don't turn around. Just walk outside, "said a male voice from behind her.

She couldn't get to her gun, strapped to her thigh holster, without him pulling the trigger. She really wanted to get him away from all these club goers. She walked out the back entrance and saw a black van with engine running.

She realized she was not going to get away that easily. As she finished this thought she felt something heavy slam into the back of her skull with brutal force. As she started to fall the man holding the gun grabbed her under her arms and started dragging her semi-conscious body towards the anonymous black van.

Her last thoughts before losing consciousness was that this was for certain, not a good day to be Kensi Meredith Blye, not at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Kensi realized that she had only lost consciousness for a moment or two as she came to and the man was attempting to open the car door and lift her in simultaneously. Well, she wasn't going to make this easy and with that she made her body dead weight before throwing herself forward. That was all it took to throw the man backward.

"Bitch!" he hissed as he toppled to the ground.

The man in the driver's seat of the van realized what was going on and started to get out of the car. Distracted by the newest thug she unholstered her gun and quickly made a move to pick herself up but the konk to the head was still affecting her as her vision blurred and a wave of dizziness washed over the junior field agent. This was a not a time to show weakness because her life could depend on it; and more importantly her pride depended on it.

The thug from the van rushed her sensing a moment of weakness. A quick kick to the groin and the satisfying snap sound his nose made as her elbow connected with it gave her the perfect outlet for her the pent up emotions. Having quickly dismissed the van's driver and sporting what probably was an amazing concussion she had forgotten the man who had clocked her in the first place. He had not forgotten her though as evidenced by the swift quick he administered towards her rib cage. Normally she would have absorbed the blow and given it right back but she was not functioning at peak capacity today. Instead, she went sprawling back towards the ground.

"Bitch, you should have not fought back. You have just made it so much worse for yourself." He said giving her a lecherous smile letting her know exactly the kind of worse he had in mind.

Kenz was saved the trouble of showing this Casanova what she had in mind for him as evidenced by the crashing of Sam and Callen through the door. Both men gave her a precursory once over to make sure she was breathing before tackling the bad guys. She hadn't even noticed the van driver had gotten up. This was not Kensi. This is not how she operates. She prided herself in always being in the center of the action. Damsel in distress was something she disliked in others and despised in herself. A sudden wave of nausea swept through her body once and she let out a groan that was as much about being found weak as it was feeling physically awful.

Sam and Callen quickly deposed of the bad guys and had them tied up. While Callen was calling… she actually didn't know who he was calling, and giving the bad guys glares that told them if they got up they'd be shot, Sam went into what Nate had referred to as "Mama Bear" mode. Even though she was technically "the girl," Sam was an equal opportunist; he smothered them all equally. With that Sam gave her a level 3 worried look. It was a little worse than she was expecting. Callen was the only one ever made it to level 5, but she still had to be looking worse for wear to get a level 3. Was it odd that they had categorized Sam's level of worry? This was something she'd have to take up with Nate, but Sam's frown was increasing and heading towards level 4, and she did not want to be at level 4.

She gave him a smile, a real smile, that she hoped conveyed her appreciation for saving her, for taking out the bad guys, for being an amazing friend. He seemed to understand and he squeezed her shoulder and gave her a grin back as Callen came over to join them.

"Do we need a medic? I have Eric on the line?" he asked looking at Sam.

"I don't know. She doesn't look too hot. I think to be safe."

"She is sitting right here," she replied with a certain amount of venom in her voice.

"Oh, Kensi angry voice level 4. She can't be that bad if she's using the level 4 voice," Callen said still ignoring her. But that was Callen. If he properly acknowledged her, he would be overwhelmed with emotions and probably put a bullet in the thugs' heads. Not having grown up with a family he was fiercely protective of the one had he found at OSP.

"I'm fine. A little banged up, but I'm fine."

Kensi knew how to lie. She in fact lied for a living. She acknowledged some pain, to suggest that she was being truthful, but did not go into details or suggest anything bad. In fact she wasn't that bad. Their skeptical glances suggested that they read right through her bullshit. She stood up triumphantly smiling at them. Then she took a step forward and began to wobble like a toddler taking its first steps and found Sam and Callen had each grabbed an elbow to steady the younger woman.

Damn. This was not good. Callen was a much better damsel in distress than she was. Sam's worried look had now reached level 4 and Callen finally looked her in the eyes.

"What happened? Don't lie to me because I'm going to have Eric pull the tapes," he warned pointing a security camera that had slipped her guard. What was going on?

She gave them an accurate, if brief, recap of what happened from when she and Callen had split.

"There's something going on here, but I think we should get you to an er and get your head looked at," the team's mother bear replied.

The team knew that Kensi hated hospitals. Hated them. She could tolerate visiting her friends in them, but she could not be treated in them. Not long after she started at OSP, a fight with a jihadist had ended with her needing 36 stiches in her leg after a very long and sharp knight had cut through a pair of very sexy and very expensive jeans and into her skin. While the jihadist had made a trip to the hospital's morgue after Kensi Blye got through with him, after arguing that it was just a "flesh wound" Sam threw her over his shoulders and forced her to the emergency room.

In the same respect, the team knew that Sam's time in Iraq and Afghanistan had left him refusing to ever walk into a church again. Callen avoided cases with kids involved. Eric could not shoot a gun, he could not physically cause harm to another person. Nate hated dogs. Hated them after being bit by a rabid dog as a teenager. Hetty would always choose her agents over the job. She would lose her job to save them or protect them, and they knew this and never tested it. The beauty of NCIS OSP was that they knew each other's hang ups and let them slide. Sam was not going to let this go without a fight, and a fight she gave them.

"Seriously. I am fine. I got bumped on the head. I'm a little dizzy. I probably have a concussion, but there isn't anything they can do for me at the hospital. Nothing."

"I agree with Miss Blye," came the disembodied voice of Hetty through the comm link forcing the junior agent to give Sam her best "I told you so" look. "However, Nate will take a look at your when you get back Kensi."

It was Sam's turn to give her an "I told you so" smug look.

"Nate's a psychiatrist," said a confused Callen.

"Yes, I am a psychiatrist. But I still had to go to med school and I still had to go through all my rounds. If you think about it, I'm a head doctor, so I'm still treating her head."

"Mr. Getz, I believe your jokes are better saved for a different audience, perhaps, one that suffers from a hearing deficit?"

That caused the agents to smile. Sometimes she wondered if Nate really lacked a sense of humor or if he made himself the butt of jokes to make his friends smile.

As she walked towards the car, she never realized that G had refused to let go of her elbow as he guided her towards the car. She didn't notice the glance that Sam and Callen shared at the unusual Kensi behavior. She never let them take care of it, even when she needed them. They both instinctively knew that this distractedness was more likely from the loss of Dom than the loss of consciousness. She seemed equally unaware that the LAPD had arrived and Sam was briefing them on what had happened as Callen walked her towards the car.

Kensi Meredith Blye was deep in thought. This day sucked. But it was about over. They'd go debrief. Decide a course for tomorrow. Nate would look at her head. Eric would drive her home and then she'd take a really long hot bubble bath and end her day. That's all she wanted. A bubble bath, because even Kensi Blye needed some pampering occasionally, a very rare occasion, but she still needed it sometimes. Then she could end this awful day. As she got into the backseat, she was still unaware that her day was not in fact close to over and it could achieve a whole new level of "suckiness."


	5. Chapter 5

Kensi had started to dose off in the car. Her thoughts were going to what they always went to these nights when her eyes betrayed her and she drifted into sleep. Dom's death. She hadn't got to see him alive. They found him and he was gone just as fast. She hadn't even had the opportunity to protect him, say goodbye, say "I missed you," to sacrifice herself. Instead, she saw the aftermath. His body laid out in a martyr's pose, his blood pooling out beside him. His death was no different than her father, her fiancé, her partner. She never got a chance to say goodbye. They were just gone without warning, without time to prepare her heart. The list kept piling.

She had made a mistake of opening up to Nate and he had been gently prodding her to open up some more ever since. His persistency was admirable but annoying. He had commented during their last session, sessions that Hetty had demanded for all of them and that even Callen had not charmed his way out of these, that she had been distant with the group. In a way it was true. Sam had mentioned missing their workouts and sparring sessions. She hadn't gone surfing with Eric in months. Hadn't gone and seen the old movies in the park with Callen, a tradition that was uncharacteristic for both but still had become a tradition nevertheless. Hetty remarked on missing their afternoon tea chats where the older woman we would regale her with her amazing stories about romancing Sean Connery and having lunch with President Reagan. And she owed Nate a couple lunches at the deli.

How do you get close to people when they die?

Somewhere in her addled and exhausted brain, the image of Dom laying dead on the ground morphed into the image of her father, then Eric, Sam, Nate, Hetty,

"CALLEN!"

"Woah! Kenz, Kenz, I'm right here. I'm right here. Sam's here too."

She looked around the car confused. Sam's dark brown eyes were continually glancing back at her through the rearview window while Callen's piercing blues were staring at her while he gently rubbed her hands trying to coax her out of her nightmare.

"Kensi, you with us?" said Sam shooting her a level 5 worry face from the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, just fell asleep."

"You were screaming our names" Callen said gently not sure what to make of his always strong friend and coworker.

"I often have kinky office dreams," she said with a pathetic attempt at both humor and a smile.

The two men decided to ignore and began arguing with the disembodied voices of Hetty, Eric, and Nate. They were still on the comm link.

"At least she has a sense of humor, can't be that much brain damage" Eric offered in her defense trying to save his friend a trip to her least favorite location, the er.

"It wasn't funny Eric," came the grizzly voice of the team's overly protective ex-Seal/current grizzly mama bear.

"Still, it was more humorous than Nate."

The sharp "ow" that followed pretty much clued her into the fact that the psychologist had slapped the technical operator upside his head.

"Everyone, I'm ok. G, what did you learn from Sydney?" she questioned diverting the attention from her head.

"Born operator. She was there with Sgt. Mason last night until about 1. He got a call and 'wigged out' than 'got all creeper' and bailed on our socialite. Eric pulled the video and her story pans out. He looks pretty stressed out leaving. Keeps looking behind him. Then he gets into a black van without plates."

"A black van, he didn't arrive in" added Eric.

"A black van like the one those thugs tried to shove me into?"

"Nate thought the same thing. We ran checks on the baddies. And yes, I am that good. Richard Clarke and Thomas Carson. Both former marines, both served with Sgt. Mason, and both have wrap sheets that read like your basic lackey. Drug possession. Assault and battery. DUIs. They have every misdemeanor under the sun."

"Good work, Eric."

"Nate, you got anything?"

"Yeah. I've been watching the videos. He was fine walking into the club. Looked like a soldier enjoying his last night of freedom. Hits up a pretty girl. Wines and dines her. Comes from money, so that's not an issue. Whatever started this didn't start until he received that phone call. Then he begins to look paranoid. Checking behind him Doesn't put his back to a crowd. He makes two more calls and gets into an unmarked van."

"Alright, Eric, try to track the phone call. Pull up local traffic cams, see if you can find out where that van went. I'd bet anything it's the same van that tried to pick up Kensi tonight. We'll be back in a half hour. Have everything up and waiting. My gut tells me we might be running out of time."

"See you soon, Mr. Callen" was Hetty's final message before disconnecting the comm link.

Figuring she had a half hour to just relax she was sadly mistaken by the voice G Callen.

"Oh no you don't. Nate says you can't sleep with a concussion." She opened her eyes preparing to argue but Sam's disapproving look told her she shouldn't argue.

"And no driving. Nate says you can't drive either," came the voice of mama bear from the front seat.

"Sorry, Kenz. I'll drive you home. Better me than wifey up there," he said in a mock whisper.

The giggle that he elicited from Kensi was worth it. She opened her mouth to speak, but her giggle was cut short by the force of a truck slamming into the car. Sam gripped the wheel and tried to regain control while speeding up to get ahead. Callen and Kensi instinctively unholstered their guns and rolled down the windows trying to get a shot at the car, an unmarked black van, that was trying to run them of the road.

"I think you were wrong, G. This is the black van that was Mason got into last night."

"Yeah, well, we can debate that later."

Despite their bickering no one lost focused. In fact, the three of them, but Sam and G in particular, did their best when they went into old married couple mode. It provided a measure of familiarity in the storm of all the chaos.

Kensi and G had little time for shooting when a second van joined the fray.

"I think you two are both wrong," Kensi yelled at front.

"Buckle up and sit back," Callen yelled at her. Not trusting her to listen on a good day, let alone in a stressful situation sporting a head injury, he checked her seatbelt to make sure it was secure before bracing himself. Sam was either going to have their sedan crushed by the trucks or he could crash. He figured they stood the best chance of surviving a crash. He sped up and with no place to go, ran through the guard rail and went careening down a hill. As the car flipped over and Kensi's already battered brain hit the top of the car, her last thoughts were that this was an awful day. Kensi Meredith's Blye's day had just about hit rock bottom, literally hit rock bottom as the car carrying the three friends finally came to a stop.


	6. Chapter 6

Waking up Kensi's first thoughts were Sam and Callen. Sam. G. Sam. G. Sam. G. She repeated that mantra repeatedly in her foggy head. The pain and confusion were enough to make her panicky that she would forget these two important lives, two people more important than herself. She needed to know they were ok. Nothing else matter. Fuck her injuries, they were unimportant compared to making sure she found Sam and Callen who were somewhere but not in the crashed Impala with her. Looking up? Down? She realized the car had flipped over. They had crashed? Yes, they had crashed. She would not be able to tell you anyone why they had crashed or what had happened; at this moment it took all her concentration to remember their names. The only thing she could focus on was her teammate and friends.

They weren't in the car. They weren't in the car. Where were they? Why couldn't they be here? Panic began to rise its way up her throat along with bile. Not prepared for either she threw up onto what was the roof of Callen's car. Her one thought was Hetty would kill her. It never occurred to her that this afternoon's lunch was the least thing Hetty would be upset about. She never thought that somewhere in the Eagle's Nest Nate, Eric, and Hetty were aware of the accident and thanks to OnStar and were already worried sick about their friends' whereabouts. The fact that she still could not fully comprehend this spoke to how bad the situation was. The situation was bad.

Where were they? She had to find them. Did they get thrown out? She tried to call out their names, but all that came out was a whimper of pain. For the first time her mind remotely realized that she was hurt. Her chest, left arm, and her head all ached. She couldn't dwell on that. Sam. G. They needed her. She had to find them. They were more than friends.

What if they got thrown out of the car by the impact. The thought of their mangled bodies running through her confused brain sent her into a flashback.

She was fifteen. Kensi was in love. She had just watched Titanic with Sean Grayson. She had just had her first kiss. She had not yet killed a man with just her hands. She had not yet sacrificed more than she should. She was Kensi "KB" Blye. She was a romantic tomboy who was going through her first crush. She was daddy's girl. She could help her dad calibrate the engine of his car or she could put on a skirt and sit with a boy and kiss that boy. There was still so much innocence in that young woman. Coming home, she barely registered that her dad wasn't home. She was actually glad. She didn't want to have to explain to her protective father why a blush and a smile had permanently settled on her face. Without her mother, that was not a conversation she wanted to have with her dad. She woke up at 4:30am to a knock on the door. She assumed her dad was home and would get it. The knocks grew more insistent. Pulling her body out of bed and out of a dream that involved the sweet and handsome Sean Grayson and his perfect lips, she walked towards the window and saw he friend Emma's father, Lt. Flannery, at the door. She opened the door.

For years she would regret opening the door. She would wish she had finished the dream. Enjoyed just a few more hours of being KB, innocent and emersed in the drama of first romance. The minute she saw Mr. Flannery's face she knew it was her dad. Her life stopped. Her breath stopped. She remembered being eerily calm even at his funeral. Calmer than any of the adults. His body was mangled. They couldn't even have an open casket because it had been THAT bad. Never would she see her dad's face again. Smiling at her. Pride on his face as she hit a homerun. She'd even miss the stern eyebrow raise as he grounded her for sneaking out of the house to ride dirt bikes with the neighborhood kids and the explosive anger the night she clocked the homecoming queen in the face, who totally deserved it.

Coming back to reality, the panic rose. What if G and Callen were hurt? What if their bodies were mangled like her father's, completely unrecognizable? No, she had to save them. Kensi lost her dad, her partner, her fiancé, and Dom. She WOULD NOT lose G and Sam. They were too important. She would die before she let that happen. At the rate her day was going, it was not out of the realm of possibility.

Finally getting her body somewhat under control she looked around and tried to figure out how to get herself out. Looking around she noticed the windshield was gone, increasing her worry that the guys got thrown out of the car. There was blood. A lot of blood. What had happened? Where were they? Kensi also quickly realized she was still hanging upside down thank to the seatbelt that had kept her in place. Without realizing it, the anything but religious Kensi Blye said a prayer of thanks to anything or one out there that Callen had enough sense to make sure her seatbelt was secure before they crashed, otherwise there was no way she would have ever survived. None. Knowing that there was no way she was going to get herself out of the car without causing herself more pain and knowing that her friends were more important, she unhooked the seatbelt falling painfully against the car's roof. Forcing back more bile and tears, tears for the pain, for the uncertainty and fear she felt at this moment, and tears for all the men she had lost, she pushed down the pain and let the focus and determination take over.

Seeing that the back window had also been broken in the crash she began to crawl through the broken glass trying to get herself out of the car. She ignored the stab of glass tearing and piercing soft skin. She ignored the massive headache ripping through her brain and the pressure in her chest, and the fact that she couldn't move her left arm all the way.

After ten painful minutes, she finally crawled her way out of the car and stood up looking at the night sky with a twinkle of a star or two. Living in LA, stars were a rarity, but tonight there were a few and those along with the full moon were enough to illuminate the area. She began searching the area both praying for and dreading finding any trace of her friends. Completely forgetting that Sam had been run off the road by someone who did not want them alive, she started hoarsely calling their names, begging anyone or anything to acknowledge they were alive. Kensi, who was a born operator in her sleep, had forgotten the rule of not alerting the enemy of your presence. At this moment, the first since she had started at OSP she stopped being an agent and for that moment she was a scared woman who desperately wanted to find her friends. She had been searching for about 20 minutes, not noticing the tell-tale trail of blood she had made, when her body began to betray her determination. The adrenaline that had kept her going succumbed to the awful day she was having. Not caring. Giving her friends up for dead Kensi slid to the ground, not caring if she lived or died. If G and Sam were dead what was the point? They had to be dead. They were nowhere around. The only conclusion was their bodies had been thrown out of the car before the car had crashed. G. Sam. G. Sam. Gone. Like Dom. Like her daddy. Like every other man in her life. They were dead and she did not expect Hetty, Nate, or Eric to forgive her because she would never forgive herself. Not even bothering to cry, she felt tears a luxury she no longer deserved, she laid herself down.

Not five minutes had passed before her body began to give into its desire to lose consciousness when she heard the sound of talking. She knew immediately that it was not Sam and Callen; she could tell their voices in her sleep, blind, or with a head injury. Forcing her body out of the rest that she so desperately needed, she started to listen to the conversation.

"Two of them. That playboy and the whore he was with."

Who were they talking about?

"She's not in the car."

"You think she'd dead? She could have flown out of the car?"

"Maybe, there was a lot of blood back there."

"We have to find her, dead or alive. No loose ends."

Were they talking about her? She was confused. Thinking caused her brain to hurt all the more and she let out a whine. If she had been feeling better she would have chided herself on whining. Agents didn't whine, not unless Nate and Sam stole the Marchesa bakery cookies she liked to hide in her desk. Concussions and confusions better characterized this night than cookies and camaraderie did. For the first time she realized that goons, they were always goons, had stopped conversing.

"She's got to be around her. Find her."

Kensi stopped for a moment. This day was getting worse and worse. She sat for a moment and debated letting them just find her and kill her. Then she remembered that these bastards had probably killed her friends. "Fuck them."

Pulling her gun out of its ankle holster she turned herself away from the direction they would be coming and played dead, which at this moment wasn't entirely far from how she felt. She was going to make them pay, and then she could lie down and die. She made a slight movement and a groan to capture their attention. It worked. She heard whispers as they began to come upon her position. Looking at her the men were relieved. She looked like death, getting rid of her would be both easy and a virtue considering they would be putting her out of her misery. Killing someone who was already half way there was easier than killing a young woman in the prime of her life. She heard them whispering, something about these situations always demanded whispering even though no one was around, deciding if they should take her life there or move her out of the open. While they debated they never heard the click of the gun as she took it off safety, and the first man only had a second to look in surprise into the mismatched eyes of his killer as she smiled at him and mouthed "Fuck you" before pulling the trigger and placing a round straight between his eyes.

The second man took advantage of the situation and the fact that his opponent was obviously injured to kick the gun out of her hands. In her head all she could think was "great" before rolling onto her side to try and escape the kick he aimed at her ribs. No such luck. Kensi felt the breath leave her body in a swoosh. The kick was enough to piss her off. As she lay still knowing that she was no match for this man, she realized intelligence was the only way she was going to win this one. So, for the second time in just moments, she played dead. She lay there whimpering. She looked at him with puppy dog eyes, gasping for breath in the way G taught her. The man came over and placed another kick to her ribs, this time causing the dry snap of a rib breaking but she did not move. She bit her tongue and absorbed the pain, not flinching or moving, just allowing her eyes to roll back into her head. She listened to his laugh. If before she was a worried woman missing her friends now she was a pissed off agent mourning her friends and seeking revenge. She waited til she she heard him reach for his own gun and stand over her before she took her leg and gave him a well deserved kick to his groin. He instantly dropped his gun and she lost no time in grabbing the cold metal and forcing her body to stand up. She wanted to look the man who killed her family in the eyes before she satiated her blood lust. She waited until he was looking at her in the face before she took him out the same way she took out the first one. Then she kept firing until there were no bullets left. Then she kept firing. One of the only memories she had of her mother was sitting on the woman's lap as she read her a book. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Today was Kensi Blye's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. That was the thought going through her head as she continued to fire nothing into the man's dead body.


	7. Chapter 7

She did not hear the frantic and worried screams of "Kensi!" coming from both G and Sam.

Sam reached her a second faster and stopped. The young woman who had become his friend, his equal and his sister, stood before him and he wanted to cry. Cry that she was still alive and cry at the sight before him. Her dark curls were matted down with blood and sweat. Her left arm hung limply at her side obviously dislocated. She was stooped. Her breathing was loud and wet suggesting she had broken a rib or four. Her bare arms were covered in scratches. Her face was puffy, swollen, and discolored. And he knew Callen would agree that she was probably the most beautiful sight in the world because she was breathing.

Sam got there first but Callen took control noticing the young woman still firing her now empty gun. He walked up beside her and put his hands up in the international sign for "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Kenz, it's me, G. You're ok." The last part was said as a statement to reassure both her and himself.

She looked at him questioningly. Something inside her broke. And she viciously shook her head.

"You're both dead" she whispered.

"Do we look dead?"

"The accident?" she asked confusedly putting the gun down, which G gently took away from her and holstered into the back of his jeans.

"We were fine, other than G injuring his pretty boy face," Sam interjected pointing to Callen's broken nose and bruised face. "The guys followed us down here. We tried to distract them and get them away from you. You were unconscious."

"You're alive" came out more as a question than a statement.

"Yup, you're still stuck with us, Kensi."

At the end of this sentence and Sam punctuated his comment by reaching out to touch her arm. The gesture of friendship broke her. Neither of the men was suspecting her response. She started to openly cry. Something she had never done and would never have done if she didn't have a massive concussion and if she wasn't so relieved to see these two men alive. They went towards her and hugged her letting her know they were alive. Later she would pretend to forget this had never happened and Nate would play along saying that some memory loss was common with a head injury as severe as Kensi's. But for now she cried. She only was vaguely aware of Sam talking into a phone,

"She's not doing too hot, what's the ETA on the ambulance, Eric?"

"Three minutes. Hetty and I will meet you at the hospital. Nate should be there in a minute. He was going to meet you guys there, he knows her medical history. Sam, take care of her." The last part was a statement not a question.

"Always."

At the moment Nate joined them and went into doctor mode. While he was the best psychologist around, he had gone to med school to and was in charge of all of NCIS LA OSP medical files to. He knew that Callen was allergic to blueberries and Eric had asthma. Both undercover agents had never been so excited to see the psychologist.

Nate took over and ordered Sam to carry her up the embankment so they didn't waste time with the First Aid attempting to get her up. The normally awkward and gawky psychologist came alive when his element. He was calm and soothing and calmed the slightly hysterical junior agent down. Speaking to her it was clear she had know idea what was going on and had hit her head pretty good. When the ambulance arrived Nate had performed basic first aid and had her in the ambulance immediately not giving the paramedics a moment to disagree. He went with Kensi while Sam and G followed in Nate's car, breaking all legal limits.

When they arrived at the hospital Hetty and Eric were waiting, both looking anxious, even the normally unflappable Hetty. They were a team, a very well oiled, team. Even in personal crises they were a team.

Kensi's first coherent words were what happened about the case. They all stared at her strangely, but they knew she did not want attention on her, despite the fact that she was in the hospital, attached to tons of tubs and contraptions

"Those thugs at the club were Mason's. He went rogue."

"The club?" she asked her voice laced with pain killers and pain.

"You remember. You played the vamp? You went crying on some playboy's shoulder?

This all seemed vaguely familiar.

"Sort of."

"Short term memory loss is common with severe concussions," Nate offered her with a smile explaining the gaps she'd be having.

"Well, that playboy, was Mason's dealer. Our Sgt. owed his drug dealer major major money. Daddy cut off our heir. He needed money. He cashed in Mason's debt. Mason didn't have money. But nothing says quick cash like selling government secrets. When you started talking to the douche he realized something was up. Thought you and I were trying to steal the military secrets from him. He sent the thugs to rough you up and find out what were up to. When Sam and I found you kicking their asses behind the club and arrested those guys he must have realized we weren't power players and law enforcement and he tried to get rid of us."

"Yeah. There were more of the heir's lackeys at the…" Sam hesitated saying crash, "accident. G and I tried to get them away from you until help arrived. They confessed and gave up Mason's location. He hadn't sold the info yet."

"We all live to see another day," Hetty said looking pointedly at the young woman.

"Yes, but I am not sure I will live to see another date." Kensi was referring to her current state of appearance. Nate told Eric later in confidence that the ride with Kensi back to the hospital was painful. She lost a lot of blood. Her lips were blue. She'd been out in the night air and was suffering from shock and exposure. Her heart stopped beating for 1 minute and 23 seconds. He knew because he counted and felt each of those seconds as if they were a lifetime, a lifetime without his best friend. Being the psychologist and the one with the medical degree it was he that had to remain calm and keep the team calm while they attempted to harass the medical staff when she was in surgery for her punctured lung. She broke 4 ribs. Dislocated her left arm. Contusions. Abrasions. Exhaustion. Severe concussion. Broke 3 bones in her face. They had kept her out the first week. The first week Callen and Sam had almost been banned from the hospital each day. The first week, Hetty drank coffee. The first week, Eric had not texted once, because his favorite person to text was lying in a hospital bed. Nate had not shaved in a week.

They knew Kensi would be fine. She would recover. The doctor's told them that, but Kensi's desire to know how the case ended and the self-deprecating humor over her looks ensured she would be fine.

But Callen's thoughts were probably the most poignant. Yes, she looked like a disaster. Yes she felt ugly. But he loved her body. That same body she was now mocking, kept her heart beating. It kept her alive. To Callen, Sam, Eric, Nate, and even Hetty, at that moment nothing was more beautiful because that body kept her alive. She was perfect, perfectly flawed.

The beauty of this dysfunctional team was they would never tell her this because she would not want the attention. Really, she knew. Just like they knew she felt the same. You could argue that this lack of communication of emotions was unhealthy, but in a passing comment to Hetty, Nate once suggested that maybe this family of lost souls, orphans, rebels, ex-seals, secret keepers, and killers, that their relationship transcended speech. That worked for them.

Kensi was getting uncomfortable with silence and the stares being thrown her way.

"Oh, tell me it's not that bad!"

"I don't know. I think you're ok. You don't do the second date thing anyway, right?" teased Eric.

"Yeah, and honestly, even messed up you're still out of Renko's league, so you always have him to fall back on" suggested Callen.

"Thanks, guys."

"Besides, I don't think Mama Bear is letting any boys come your way, Kenz. You remember how he acted when G got shot? He was his personal co…," Nate was interrupted by a throat clearing from Hetty, "personal bodyguard. No woman was allowed within 5 feet of him without Sam staring them down."

"I'm not that bad!"

"You totally were. Remember that Brazilian model? You said she looked like an assassin."

"See, if I try to help any of you out anymore." Sam said half smiling as Kensi began to giggle from bed.

"No worries, Mr. Hanna. You probably saved Mr. Callen from a fate much worse and much, itchier."

The entire group stared at Hetty in disbelief before breaking down laughing. She just burned G. Kensi stopped and looked at her coworkers, her friends, her family and she smiled. Today was a not terrible, not horrible, very good day. She drifted off listening to the barbs flying across her hospital. When Hetty signaled that Kensi had drifted off and they should QUIETLY leave, they all walked out smiling at the slight grin and the not so slight snore coming from her body.


End file.
